


War of the Dragons

by Cirex101



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Dungeons & Dragons (Roleplaying Game), Dungeons & Dragons - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Awkward Sexual Situations, Canon-Typical Violence, Crossover, F/F, F/M, King Rhaegar, Other
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-09
Updated: 2019-09-18
Packaged: 2020-10-13 09:43:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,047
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20580461
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cirex101/pseuds/Cirex101
Summary: Rhaegar defeated Robert, overthrew his mad father, and became king, with Lyanna Stark by his side as Queen.  In the songs, this should have been a happy ending; but what of those cast aside by his actions?  After all, the marry Lyana, he had to set aside his first wife, Elia Martell.  In doing so, he disgraced her, and reduced his children with her to bastards, stripped of their royal titles.  In shame, Elia took her children with her to Dorne, where they grew up bitter and resentful towards their father.Now a man, Aegon Sand wanders the Free Cities, resolved to never again return to Westeros while Rhaegar is still King.  While in Volantis, hoping to learn more about Dragonlore, he meets an eccentric old man, whom seems to know more than he lets on.  This man offers Aegon the adventure of a lifetime; a journey to an island temple in shattered Valyria, where treasures await.  Aegon agrees, and joins a motly party of adventurers and treasure hunters.Upon arrival, however, they all get more than any of them were bargaining for...





	1. Chapter 1

He had decided that, by itself, rain was tolerable. The cool drops might, under some conditions, even be enjoyable. Hot rain, on the other hand, was miserable, and no man in their right mind should go to a place where the rain was hot.

Clearly, he thought as he crossed the Long Bridge of Volantis, to Fishmonger’s Square, he was not in his right mind.

The young man, no more than eight and ten, walked as quickly as he could to reach his destination, keeping his left hand on the hood of his cloak to keep the wind from blowing it off. Thankfully, the inn he was staying at was not much farther.

Still, he had to navigate the crowd; the rain had come on them only a short while ago, and the countless merchants and shoppers now scattered in the face of it, making for the indoors. The sea of human bodies therefore made what was supposed to be a short distance seem much longer.

Finally, after nearly being run over by a fishmonger’s cart, he opened the door to the Merchant's House, the finest inn in the city.

As he entered the common room, he could not help but appreciate it; a cavernous thing, and far larger than the great halls of many castles. In fact, any other inn he had ever stayed in could fit inside this room by itself.

About a half hour later, after he had returned to his room and changed into a dry pair of clothes, he found himself sitting alone at a table, drinking a tankard of Westerosi ale, waiting for his dinner of roast pork, dark bread, and greens.

Taking a sip of his drink, he noticed two men at another table to his right who were staring right at him. Most of the inn’s patrons were shippers, sea captains, and merchantmen. Those two looked like none of them; what was more, they looked as if they had just come in off the street.

Now, it could all mean nothing; after all, he was neither a sailor or a merchant either, and his hair and eyes had always attracted attention, even in cities where the blood of Old Valyria still flowed. However, he hadn’t made it this far in Essos without being cautious, and something about those two made his gut turn.

Taking another drink, he slowly scanned the room with his purple eyes; sure enough, at another table, were two more suspicious looking men, staring right at him.

One table could be nothing. Two tables on the other hand was worrying.

He set his tankard down, and let his hand touch the sword at his belt, gripping it when he saw all four men stand up.

That proved it then. They knew whom he was, and the King probably sent them. He’d have to fight his way out of this mess, and on an empty stomach no less.

“Excuse me, is this seat taken?”

Startled, he looked in front of him and saw an old man with a long grey beard and a wide brimmed hat, standing before him. Where had he come from? He certainly wasn’t there before.

“What?” the younger man asked.

“Is this seat taken?” the old man asked again, “I’ve been traveling all day, and all the other tables are taken. I’ve been told that I’m quite good company in the past, so you’ve only to gain from saying yes.”

The young man looked back at the four suspicious men, who were now leaving the room. Were they not here for him? Or were they regrouping? Regrouping because of this old man?

“I- yes, of course, have a seat.”

“Why thank you.” the old man said, taking a seat, “So rare these days to meet a youngster whom respects their elders.”

No sooner had he sat down then the food arrived, though curiously, enough for two people.

“Did you order food to be brought to this table before you asked to sit here?” the young man asked.

“Let’s just say I had a feeling you would say yes.” the old man responded as he looked appreciatively at his meal, then turned to the slavegirl whom brought it, “Thank you miss.”

The slave, not accustomed to politeness from strangers, looked confused and left, regarding the old man with a raised eyebrow.

“There’s not many people who spare kind words for slaves.” the young man stated.

“Nor are there many princes in this establishment, are there Aegon Targaryan?”

Aegon narrowed his eyes, and lowered his voice, “How do you know whom I am? Are you one of the King’s men?”

“Oh, I’ve never worked for any king before.” the old man said, “As for how I know, that is my secret. Regardless, I mean you no harm Aegon Targaryen, unlike those gentlemen from earlier.”

Still cautious, Aegon lifted his hand from his sword, and set it on the table. He reasoned he could take this elder, if it came to that.

“I’m not Aegon Targaryan.” he said, “At least, not according to the King. I’m just a Sand.”

“Oh yes, I’ve heard about that.” the old man replied, “Not even a Waters, like Bloodraven or Bittersteel, or even Daemon before he became Blackfyre. Your father took your name from you; both of them in fact.”

Aegon grimaced.at that.

“Rhaegar Targaryen is no father to me.” he stated, “Not since he shamed my mother and put that Northern harlot in her place, forcing us to go to Dorne, rather than face the continued humiliation in King’s Landing. Then he replaced me as well by naming her son Aegon as well.”

“A great injustice indeed.” the old man said, “And not very creative either. There have been more Targaryens besides Aegon they could have named him; Jaehaerys, Baelor, Maekar, Daeron, Maegor… alright, perhaps not Maegor. To call him Aegon as well though, now, that’s just confusing.”

“Well, I’m glad to see how lightly you regard my shame.” Aegon bristled, “May I ask who you are, to mock me so?”

“My name? Oh, of course! Now, let’s see here, name, name, name… Caner! I haven’t gone by that name in a while! Yes, call me Caner!”

“What sort of name is that?” Aegon asked, “It sounds made up.”

“Now it is you whom insult me!” Canersaid, “It is not a made up name; it is my name! It is also short for canary.”

Caner lifted up his hat and, to Aegon’s shock, there was a single yellow canary perched atop his head. It looked at Aegon, chirped once, and then went to sleep.

“Poor Marro.” Caner said as he placed his hat back on his head, hiding the canary from Aegon’s questioning eyes, “He’s dead tired; seems like the trip really took it out of him.”

“I… see…” Aegon replied, “Putting that aside, what exactly is it that you want old one.”

“What I want? Well, world peace for a start, but that’s not for another few years. As for now though, it’s to satisfy my curiosity. Tell me, what brings a former prince of Westeros here to Volantis?”

“I… wanted to learn about dragon lore.” Aegon admitted, “I refuse to step into the Red Keep or Dragonstone, not while Rhaegar’s pet wolves roam the halls. My only other option was here in Volantis, where the Old Blood reside.”

“Pray tell, how did that go?”

“Poorly.” Aegon admitted, “Though I am Targaryen on my father’s side, those who dwell on the East Side of Volantis do not think me worthy enough to travel through the Black Walls. Worthless shits, the whole lot of them; I can trace my bloodline to Old Valyria as well as any of them, and unlike them, my ancestors were dragon riders, not elephant riders!”

“Yes, to the highborn of this city, making use of your own legs somehow makes you lower than dirt. If Volantis is a dead end for you, then where will you go next?”

“The Golden Company maybe.” Aegon replied, “They’re always looking for Westerosi exiles. Though considering whom I am, I doubt Captain-General Baratheon will take kindly to me. Even if he did, the King might think I am the next Blackfyre, and send an army after me instead of these bounty hunters.”

“Ah yes, the huntsmen; why are they after you?”

“After my mother left, we lived with my uncle,Doran Martell, in Sunspear. I was still there when, on my six and tenth name day, King Rhaegar Targaryen summoned me to King’s Landing.” Aegon explained, “I refused, and boarded a boat to Braavos the day afterwards. After Braavos, I worked my way south through Pentos, Myr, Tyrosh, Lys, before finally ending up here, in Volantis, mostly to satisfy my curiosity.”

“Do you know why your father summoned you to KIng’s Landing?”

“No.” Aegon stated, “And I do not care. Ever since Braavos, some messenger would find me, asking to come back with him to the Red Keep. I always refused. Some months back, while I was still in Lys, he started sending hunters with ropes, rather than notes, to take me by force what he could not do with words. Thankfully, I haven’t had to kill anyone yet; I’d hate to murder anyne because of him.”

“Perhaps he is trying to reconcile with you.” Caner suggested.

“I considered that. I decided that, if he wants to reconcile, he can start by doing to this other Aegon and his sisters what he did to Rhaenys and myself. As far as I’ve heard, he has not, therefore he can go and die for all I care.”

Caner hen had a serious look in his eyes, one that unnerved Aegon.

“Take back your words Aegon Targaryen.” he said, seeming taller for a second, “Lest they come true. No child should ever wish for the death of their parents, not before you have a chance to resolve matters between you.”

“And why would I wish to make things right between myself and the King? Why should I forgive a man who tossed me aside, who made me a bastard in the eyes of gods and men?”

“I never said that you should forgive him, only that you must settle with him; they are very different things. Forgiveness is one outcome, or you could choose another. In any case, it would be your choice. Leaving things as they are now, however, constantly looking over your shoulder, is no way to live your life.”

“I’ll thank you to keep your opinions out of my business.” Aegon said, “Now, it’s time to tell me something; what do you want from me?”  
“From you? Nothing. On the contrary, I wish to help you!”

“Help me? How, exactly?”

“By leading you to that what you seek? You desire dragonlore? Well then, I know where to get some.”

“Where, exactly?”

“Where else? The birthplace of dragons, Valyria.”

“You must be mad. There’s nothing in Valyria, nothing but horrors. Many have gone there, but none have returned save one, and I’ll not let whatever happened to Princess Aerea, all those years ago, happen to me.”

“Oh, there’s more than just horrors in Valyria boy; there are wonders as well! Wonders beyond any this world has seen, things that have survived the Doom! A place, far inland, that is free of corruption, with treasures that are just waiting to be found!”

“And how do you know this?”

“How else? I’ve been there myself.”

“You lie.”

“Do I?”

Aegon looked at the man. Somehow, despite his… eccentricities, Aegon could tell that he was not lying.

“Let’s say I believe you; how would we get there?”

“By boat of course.” Caner said, “I have one of those you see; the Purple Puzzle. She and her crew got me there the first time, she’ll get me there again. We sail tomorrow at dawn, with or without you. However, I do hope you will join us; we could always use an extra sword, and it would certainly keep your father’s hunters off your back for a while.”

“... Alright then, you have yourself a deal. I’ll provide my sword to you, if you deliver on your promise of dragon lore.”

The two men shook hands, and then returned to their meal.

The following morning, Aegon found the Caner’s ship; as her name suggests, both its hull and its sails were purple, making it rather hard to miss.

Within the hour he had come aboard, they set sail for Old Valyria.


	2. Chapter 2

The year is AC 300, and Westeros is still reeling from the devastation of the War of the Usurper, almost two decades earlier. At the Battle of the Trident, a lone arrow grievously wounded Robert Baratheon, causing a panic to grip the rebel forces; although Robert survived, the Royalists claimed victory. Several more battles were fought afterwards throughout the year, but it mattered little in the end; the dragon’s victory was assured, and the leaders of the rebellion had little choice but to flee the continent.

Rhaegar Targaryen I rules from King’s Landing, alongside his queen Lyanna Stark. Together, they have four children; Aegon, Visenya, Gaemon, and Alyssa. Rhaegar’s rule is not an easy one however. While he claims to be the undisputed master of all Seven Kingdoms, only a handful of them are truly loyal to the Targaryens, with the rest split between houses for the crown, and those against.

After Lyanna’s marriage to Rhaegar came to light, something broke in Robert Baratheon. No longer possessing the will to fight, and knowing that as the leader and figurehead of the Rebellion he would be scapegoated for all the war’s ills, Robert took his brothers and most faithful supporters, and fled for Essos. House Connington was given Storm’s End, the griffin replacing the Stag as the ruler of the Stormlords. Jon Connington himself serves as Rhaegar’s Hand of the King, although his demeanor has won him few friends, both in court, or in the Stormlands, where many view him as Rhargar’s lapdog.

Riverrun was taken by Rhaegar himself during the war, and the Tullys were stripped of their position. Rule over the Riverlands were given over to the Freys, latecomers to the war who sided with the Royalists. An anti-Targaryen resistance is active here, having survived for decades in secret, and supported by those Riverlords whom hate the Freys. The surviving Tullys have fled to Essos, where they serve with the Golden Company.

After the Battle of the Trident, Eddard Stark retreated to Winterfell alongside his surviving army. After Rhaegar took the throne, he, as a favor to his wife Lyanna, offered Eddard and the other Northern Lords a general amnesty for their part in the rebellion, in exchange for several hostages, including Eddard’s son and heir, Robb, whom would be fostered at King’s Landing until he reached his majority. Eddard reluctantly agreed; Robert had already escaped to Essos, and there was no point in continuing to fight a losing war. The Wolves maintain control over the North, but relations with the Crown are strained over resentment towards the fates of the late Rickard and Brandon Stark, with the implications that should Lyanna ever return North, she would not be welcomed.

The Vale of Arryn is all but independent now, having isolated itself from the other six kingdoms, save for the North. After the Rebellion, Jon Arryn retreated back to the Vale, and fortified it against all comers. Three times Rhaegar has sent an army into the Vale, and three times they were driven back. Reluctant to lose more men, Rhaegar offered a truce, allowing Jon Arryn to remain as Warden of the East, in exchange for only bending the knee, as well as a general amnesty to all his men. After much deliberation, Lord Arryn agreed, and the final holdouts of the Rebellion laid down their arms.

Out of all the other Kingdoms, the Reach has enjoyed the greatest success since the end of the Rebellion, thanks to their loyalty to House Targaryen. Mace Tyrell serves on the Small Council as Master of Ships. Additionally, his daughter Margaery is betrothed to Aegon Targaryen, the Prince of Dragonstone, and rumor has it that he encourages his sons to court the two Princesses as well. Many believe that House Tyrell is becoming too powerful, too quickly, and resent their favored position at court.

Though they fought on the side of the Royalists, House Martell has nothing but contempt for the King, after Rhaegar set aside his wife Elia in favor of Lyanna Stark. Relations between Dorne and the Crown remain frosty, despite several reconciliation attempts from Rhaegar, all of which have been refused. Tensions between the Reach and Dorne are at an all time high, with some suspecting that Dorne will follow the Vale’s route and declare independence.

Lord Tywin serves on the Small Council, but as Master of Laws, not Hand of the King, as he did under Aerys. Jaimie Lannister still serves in the Kingsguard, protecting the Royal family from any who would wish to harm them. His sister, Cersei Lannister, is the wife of the Hand, Jon Connington, though by all accounts the match is far from happy, as both husband and wife are made miserable by the other’s presence. Tyrion Lannister, Tywin’s youngest son, has a reputation as a hedonist, partaking in whores and wine every single day, and no love is lost between him and his Lord father.

The Iron Isles remains much the same. Baelon Greyjoy and his reavers harass ships heading to and from the Vale on Rhaegar’s orders.

The realm is in turmoil, made worse by the fact that across the Narrow Sea in Essos, the disgraced Baratheons joined the Golden Company, quickly rising through the ranks until Robert became Captain-General, with his brothers Stannis and Renly as his lieutenants. Over the years, many more Westerosi have fled the Seven Kingdoms, in light of Rhaegar’s weakening hold on power, swelling the Ranks of the Golden Company. As the company gains more wealth and manpower, the possibility of a new invasion becomes a reality, one which may be supported by many Houses of mixed loyalties, including those who had supported the Crown in the last war.

It was this reality, in 300 AC, that Aegon Sand, former Prince, found himself in when he stepped onboard the purple ship…

===

Caner had asked Aegon to come below deck, to “Introduce him to the rest of the party,” as the old man had put it.

As he made his way down the stairs, it seemed to Aegon that he was not the only unique individual that Caner had convinced to join him.

Twirling a dagger in one hand was a flamboyant Bravo, a practitioner of the famed Water Dancing style of swordsmanship. He was a brown haired man, somewhere between five and ten years Aegon’s senior, smelling of sweet perfume, and dressed in an outfit that was, paradoxically, elaborate yet practical. He regarded Aegon cooly.

Sitting in a chair was a woman of the Summer Isles of at least forty, who was busy maintaining one of her people’s famed goldenheart bows. From the scars covering her bare arms, as well as her well worn leather armor, Aegon guessed she was quite experienced in the ways of battle, perhaps a warrior who had been exiled from the Summer Islands after being on the losing side of one of their ritualized battles.

The final occupant of the room was another woman, around Aegon and Tyrio’s age. She had Valyrian blood as well, made obvious by her white hair; though unlike Aegon’s white gold hair, hers was more pale, and her eyes were blue, like clear water. Her clothing left very little to the imagination, being a white and blue dress made of silks, slightly similar to the style of dress favored by the women of his Dornish homeland, except the fabris came up to above her knees, and there were slits to show off her legs. Upon her brow was a circlet made of platinum, and she wore a medallion of the same metal on her breast, depicting the symbol of a dragon. She smiled as Aegon descended the steps, and walked up to him.

“Greetings Prince Aegon!” she exclaimed, bowing slightly, “My name is Larra of Lys. I am Master Caner’s pupil. These are Tyrio-” she pointed at the Bravo, “and Xanda.” the Summer Islander, “When Master Caner said he intended to recruit you, I could not believe it; I was certain you would be annoyed by his ramblings and say no, or perhaps punch him in the face!”

“Has this happened often? Your master being punched?”

“Quite a few times. Tyrio almost punched him when they first met.”

“I see…” Aegon replied, wondering just what he had gotten himself into.

“We are all gathered? Good, excellent, now we can begin!”

Caner himself descended the steps, walking with a staff in one hand, and a rolled up map in the other.

“Has everyone introduced themselves yet? Yes? Good! Now, make room so I can roll this out!”

Nodding, Aegon and Larra began moving items on a wooden table, nailed to the floor.

“There we go, that’ll do.” Caner said as he unfolded the map, “I made this map the last time I was in Valyria, and it should still be accurate, unless a second Doom occurred while no one was looking.”

The map was surprisingly well detailed, as if it was the work of a professional mapmaker, not a half-senile old man. Caner pointed a finger at one island in particular.

“This is our destination; the Isle of the Temple. As the name suggests, it is a house of the gods worshiped by the ancient Valyrians, dedicated specifically to Balerion, the God of War, and Rulers. Now, the last time I was there, I did not get very far into the temple, but what I did see astounded me; somehow, through the grace of a higher power or mere luck, the Temple is practically intact, as if the Doom passed it by.”

“If this temple is still standing, then logically, any treasure inside should still be there are well.” Tyrio said with a smirk, “The Freehold at its height was wealthier than the rest of the world combined; any plunder we take from this temple ought to allow us all to live like Kings and Queens for the rest of our days.”

“You said you did not get far into the temple.” Xanda stated, “Why was that? What dangers lurked below?”  
“Something is alive in that temple; I felt it’s maliciousness in my gut. Rather than face it, I left, and recruited all of you to join me. Together, we should be enough to tackle the beast, and anything else that may lay within.”

“Fear not Master Caner, we shall prove more than satisfactory in this task.” Tyrio, then gestured at Aegon, “Though perhaps you ought to have found someone besides the Westerosi boy over there; perhaps a sellsword with more experience?”

“Watch your tongue Braavosi.” Aegon said, crossing his arms, “I may not be experienced, but I was trained by some of the best fighters in Dorne; men who fought in wars, not hotblooded dandies like you Bravos, where the closest you ever get to true a battle is when you drunkenly stumble into equally garishly dressed fools, and you fight over whichever courtesan you believe is the most beautiful.”

“If you mean to insult me Westerosi, then you have failed.” Tyrio said with a smile, “For there is no greater privilege than to defend the honor of one of the Hundred Isle’s great beauties.”

“Even when they are completely unaware of your very existence?”

“Especially then! Even if she knows not my name, it is my honor to defend the good name of the radiant Black Pearl! You do know whom the Black Pearl is, do you not Westerosi?”

“You mean cousin Bellegero?” Aegon said dryly, “We’re related, and quite close at that; I just had tea and cakes with her last week.”

At this Tyrio let out a throaty laugh.

“I like you Westerosi; I think we’ll get along all right. A word of advice though; I wouldn’t joke like that the next time you are in Braavos; less mirthful Bravos than myself would be enraged.”

“Who says I’m joking?”

Tyrio made as if he was going to speak, but stopped, pondering Aegon’s words with a questioning look on his face.

“As fascinating as this conversation is, perhaps we can get back to business?” Xanda asked, an annoyed look in her eyes, “Such as our payment.”

“Of course, of course.” Caner said, bringing up another scroll, “I will pay each of you two hundred gold Volantene Honors, one hundred now, and one hundred once our little adventure has concluded. IN addition, all additional treasure we find will be counted, and then evenly distributed into five shares, myself included. Any speciality items however, will need to be properly inspected as to determine value. I trust these conditions are acceptable to all of you?”

Everyone nodded.

“Good! Then please sign here everyone; assuming you all know how to write of course.”


	3. Chapter 3

There was not much to do on a ship if you were just a passenger. Therefore, you had to make your own entertainment when time was all you had in abundance.

Aegon found his enjoyment in getting to know the collection of sellswords that Caner had brought onboard.

===

“I am the eighth son of Sealord Porthios Kaavas.” Tyrio said one noon, while he and Aegon were playing a game of Cyvasse on deck, “All his life, he was a wealthy merchant of copper and iron, and our family grew so rich from it, and so respected, that the people of Braavos chose him to replace the late Sealord. Unfortunately, he only served in that position for a year before he tragically choked on a piece of mutton.”

“He choked?” Aegon asked incredulously while he took Tyrio’s elephant with his own dragon, “That is a bad way to go.”

“Believe me, I know.” Tyrio said sullenly, “After that, he became a joke to the people of the City, with heartless scoundrels snickering behind our backs whenever they thought we could not hear them. Oh, but we heard, and we did not take their slander in silence! My brothers took to the streets, and thrashed the slanderers in the Water Dance! When I came of age, I joined them as well, to ensure that no one, rich or poor, banker or priest, would dare to speak ill of our father! That only lasted for a few years though, and by then people stopped talking about it all that much. So, I had to find a new cause to champion; the Black Pearl, most beautiful of Braavos’ courtesans, seemed to be the most worthy to me.”

“Is that why you’re here then?” Aegon asked, “You’re traveling to Valyria, the most dangerous land in the world, for a woman you’ve never even met?”

“Of course! I will travel to Valyria and return, alive, with treasure and glory, and I will dedicate my act to the Black Pearl herself.”

“If your family is so rich, why don’t you just pay to meet her?”

“Bah, anyone with enough money could go to meet her. It takes a truly accomplished man to make someone like the Black Pearl want to meet you however. Speaking of which, how did you manage to meet the Black Pearl, if you were not jesting of course?”

“I told only the truth; We were both buying some oysters from a street vendor at the same time, we introduced ourselves, and she invited me to stay with her while I was in Braavos.”

“You just… ran into one another? Just like that?”

“Just like that.”

“But why would she extend such a courtesy to you?”

“I already told you; we are cousins. We share a common ancestor in Aegon IV.”

“Huh.” Tyrio said, before returning his eyes to the game. He was quiet for a minute, and then decided to move one of his trebuchets.

“Do you think you can introduce me?”

===

Xanda aimed an arrow at her target, a gull flying overhead. She loosed the shaft, and it found its mark, piercing the gull through its head, and sending it falling towards the deck, where it landed with a hard thud. Xanda walked over to it, removed the arrow, and then placed the bird in a large sack, where it joined several more of its kind Xanda had already shot, and would then be prepared for tonight’s dinner.

“That was very impressive.” Aegon said as he applauded, “I’ve met skilled archers back in Sunspear, but you and that marvelous bow of yours put them all to shame.”

“Thank you.” Xanda said with a smile, “The goldenheart bows of my people are treasured for their construction, and the archers who wield them are likewise famed for their skill.”

“I was taught that the Dragonlords of Old Valyria used to trade with the Summer Islands for Goldenheart.” Aegon said, “That it was the best material to construct bows save for dragonbone.”

“The dragons are all gone now.” Xanda said, “And Princes of the isle have forbidden the sale of goldenheart to the outside world. It makes an archer like myself a prized commodity among the Sellsword companies.”

“How did you become a sellsword anyway?” Aegon asked, “If you do not mind me asking.”

“I do not mind; it is not a happy story, but it is one I have come to accept nonetheless. I once served a Prince of the Summer Islands, who ruled what you would know as Red Flower Vale. He had a disagreement with another Prince and, as is the custom of our islands, fought one another in ritual battle. We lost and, as tradition dictates, we were exiled. He went to Westeros, and I to the Free Cities, where I have worked as a sellsword ever since.”

“Do you want to return home?”

“Not really. I’ve spent so many years away from it now, I am not sure I would feel comfortable, even if I could go back.”

“I see…” Aegon said, looking away from Xanda now. While he had come all the way to Essos to avoid the King, he always dreamt of one day returning home; perhaps after Rhaegar was dead. But, how many years would that be? Rhaegar was older, but healthy from all the news coming out of King’s Landing, and it was said unless plague or war took him, he could rule for another twenty or even thirty years. And even if Rhaegar did die, Black Aegon, Lyanna’s eldest son, would take the throne.

If he waited for the King’s death, Aegon would potentially have spent years in Essos, longer than he’d ever been in Westeros. Even if he did return there one day, could he stay? Or would Dorne become as strange to him in the future as the Free Cities were to him now?

===

“I always see you reading that book.” Aegon said to Larra after dinner one evening, as the two of them were below deck. Out of all his fellow passengers, Aegon preferred to spend time with Larra the most; after all, she was a strikingly beautiful woman, and was quite adept at providing pleasant conversation as well. They had spoken a great deal about Valyria over the course of the journey, or at least what little the world knew of the Freehold that had not been lost to the Doom, “If you do not mind me asking, what is it about?”

“Oh this?” Larra asked, “This is the Book of Bahamut, the holy book of my people.”

“Bahamut? Is he a god? I’ve never heard of him before, let alone anyone in Lys worshipping him.”

“Not many people do; in fact, only my family does.” Larra explained.

“How did that happen?”

“I am Lyseni, but my great-great grandmother came to the city far from the east., and they brought Bahamut with them. My family then took up worship of Bahamut, and it’s stayed with the family ever since.”

“What can you tell me about Bahamut then. What kind of a god is he?”

“Oh, I think you’d like him; he is a dragon as well, with Platinum scales.”

“A dragon god? COuld he be from Valyria?”

“Possible, though some in my family believes he predates Valyria. There’s no way to prove it, however, and it the end it doesn't matter. Bahamut himself is a god of the air, hope, and war. He demands that when we see wrongs, that we right them.”  
“Many gods have similar tennants; few worshippers actually follow through on them.” Aegon said bitterly.

“You’re not particularly religious, are you Aegon?”

“No, I’m not. The High Septon annulled my mother Elia Martell’s marriage to Rhaegar, despite having given him two children already, including me, a son. Since then I haven’t cared much for their type, or priests of any cloth for that matter.”  
“So, you’re not a knight then?” Larra asked, “I’ve heard that Westerosi had to swear oaths to your Seven Gods in order to become a knight.”

“You do.” Aegon replied, “A vigil in a Sept is also customary. I, however, am not a knight. Swearing vows to gods who had abandoned my family seemed wrong to me.”

“It seems to me, Aegon Sand, that you are letting your feelings towards your father color your views on the gods and knighthood. Your father wronged you, yes, but you still grew up in a palace, with servants to tend to you, and enough food to ensure you would never starve. Many in this world go hungry every day, and have no roof to cover their heads from the rain. It seems to me that you were quite fortunate growing up.”

“I… I suppose you are right. I did have the good luck to be born to a Martell of Dorne.”

“As for the gods; that is between you and them, but I feel that you should not let your father’s misdeeds prevent you from rising in your society. Becoming a knight would be your accomplishment, and yours alone; something that he could never take away from you.”

“Hmm.” Aegon grunted, closing his eyes. Larra had not been the first person to tell him as much; he’d lost track of how many times his mother had same something similar. Still, his feelings towards the Seven could not change so easily, not after what his father and his pet High Septon had done… the shame of it all.

He shook his head, and decided to change the subject from gods to something else.

“So, how exactly did you end up with old Caner?”

“Master Caner? My family has known him for several generations. He’s wise, and learned, and any of my family he chooses to take along with him on this adventure or that adventure has always returned wiser and stronger for it. I was so excited when he picked me to come with him.”

“How long ago was this?”

“Oh, a few years ago, around the time Lys hired the Golden Company to defeat Myr in the Disputed Lands.”

“When Robert Baratheon completely annihilated the Myrish forces?”

“Yes, that’s the one.”

“That was thirteen years ago.”

“Oh… so it was.”

“You must have been five when you became his apprentice.”

“Yes. I was five at the time.”

“Larra, how old are you?”

“Aegon!” she shouted, slamming her book, “You never ask a Lady their age!”

Then Larra stormed off, leaving a confused Aegon alone.

===

When Aegon awake, he awake lying in a field of ash, as far as the eye could see in all directions, all the while a blood red moon hung low in the sky, as if it was an angry eye, watching everything he did.

Confused, he got to his feet, and reached for his sword, only to grasp air; his sword was missing, only an empty scabbard hung from his belt.

“Seven hells, where am I?” Aegon muttered under his breath.

“You are not in Hell; not yet at least.”

It was the voice of a woman, but deep and echoing, and came at Aegon in all directions.

“Who is there?” he asked, “Show yourself!”

“I bid you welcome King Aegon VI, King of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms, and Protector of the Realm.”

“Cease this mockery!” Aegon shouted, incensed, “If you know my name then you know that will never be true!”

“And why not?” the voice asked, “Do the laws of the Seven Kingdoms save for Dorne not say that the father’s heir is his eldest son? And are you not your father’s eldest? In the eyes of gods and men, you will be the next King.”

Aegon laughed bitterly.

“Do not speak to me of gods and men. Men are weak, cloying, and are but dogs, waiting for any scraps their master gives them. The gods are no better; if they really were just, then they would not allow this wrong to have transpired! Where was the Father’s justice when the king ripped away my birthright? Where was the Mother’s mercy when Elia Martell was cast aside like a broken doll? Where was the Warrior’s courage or the Smith’s strength when men who knew that the King’s actions were wrong, but did not stand up to say so? And where were the Maiden, the Crone, and the Stranger? To the hells with the gods; they’ve done nothing but torment us.”

“Then why do you not find new gods to worship?”

“And what gods would those be? The Old Gods that the the harlot queen worships? The Drowned God of the Ironborn? The Red God or any of the countless others the people of Essos pray to?”

“No, no, none of them. A stronger god, a god worthy of the Blood of the Dragon.”

“Those worshiped by the ancient Valyrians?” Aegon asked, “The last to pay them homage was Aegon the Conqueror, and he cast them aside in favor of the Seven; even the rulers of Volantis pray at the Temple of the Red God now. The gods of the Freehold have no power in this world any longer.

“They do not, but I was not speaking of them Young Aegon. Rather, I speak of another, one whom is new to this world, but far more powerful; the one that I have the greatest privilege to serve.”

“And just what is the name of this god?”

A roar pierced the air, and from behind him, the earth shook when a great mass fell from the sky, knocking Aegon off of his feet and onto the ground. As he tried to get back up, Aegon saw black scaled feet the size of carriages before him, with claws the size of horses. As he looked up, he felt fear and awe grip his heart; before him was a gargantuan dragon, larger than even Balerion the Black Dread was said to be. Instead of one head however, this dragon had five, one red, one black, one blue, one green, and one white, each fearsome in its own way. Ten pairs of eyes found him, and trapped him in their baleful gaze.

“I serve She who is the Queen of all Dragons, whose wingspan covers cities, whose claws rend kingdoms, and whose breath brings ruin to armies and gods alike! Grovel mortal, for you gaze upon the image of Tiamat!”

The image of Tiamat unleashed a roar so loud and powerful that Aegon closed his eyes and covered his ears to keep himself from going deaf.

“Prove yourself to be worthy of her serving her, and the Queen will in turn reward you,” the voice said, “with your deepest desires…”

Aegon opened his eyes, and found that he was no longer on the plain of ash, but rather in a place he had once been before, when he was but an infant; the Great Hall of the Red Keep, in King’s Landing. In the hall were hundreds of men and women, dressed in fine clothes, and knights in gleaming armor and wielding shining swords; all bowed to him; even the skulls of the long passed dragons seemed to do him homage. They parted, opening a path that would allow him to walk from the great doors, all the way to the dais upon which the Iron Throne itself rested.

“All hail Aegon the Powerful!” the crowd chanted, “King of all Westeros and Essos, Lord of the World!”

As if in a daze, Aegon walked towards the throne, and felt a warmth grow in his chest. As he got closer, he saw that his mother, sister, and his Martell relatives stood on top the dias, while Rhaegar, Lyanna, and their brood were kneeling at its base, heads lowered towards the floor in shame, while the KIngsguard stood over them, swords raised, as if to execute them should they try anything.

As he ascended the steps to the throne, he reached out his right hand to touch the left armrest. As soon as he did so, his hand went through it, as if it was water. The Iron Throne then turned to mist, and faded away. Aegon turned around, and saw the same thing happen to the Great Hall, and all the people within it. They faded away, and Aegon was left alone once more.

“Just an illusion.” Aegon said, “All just dreams.”

“It does not have to be a dream though.” the voice came back, “Together, we can make it become a reality; you, on the Iron Throne, the lords and ladies of the realm swearing fealty, your father, his whore, and your half-siblings dead or humbled before you, punishment for their crimes… all this can be yours.”

“If I swear my undying worship of your goddess, Tiamat?”

“Indeed. But, there are several conditions.”

“There always are.” Aegon replied, “You’re beginning to sound like a Braavosi Banker. What are these conditions?”

“You must swear your soul, and those of your heirs to Tiamat in both life, and in death.” she started, “But before that, you must… convince us that you are worthy. My Queen does not suffer weaklings, nor fools; prove yourself to be strong and cunning, and perhaps Lady Tiamat will grace you with her power.”

“How would I prove myself in your goddess’ eyes?”

“Keep traveling with the old fool Caner, into the Valyrian temple. You will face terrors within; survive them, and reach the heart of the temple. You will know what to do afterwards-”

Before the voice could finish speaking, a bright light erupted, blinding Aegon.

“What? No! Interloper!”

“You will not have this one servant of Tiamat.” another voice, a female voice, softer but no less powerful, said, “He is not for your kind.”

“That is not up to you slave!” the first voice screamed, “I will not allow you to interfere-”

“Begone!”

===

Aegon’s eyes snapped open, breathing heavily. He was still in his bunk, in his cabin.

Rubbing his eyes, he sat up, placing his feet on the floor, and took a few deep breaths to calm himself.

What kind of a dream was that? It seemed so real. He had heard stories of how his Targaryen ancestors would have prophetic “Dragon Dreams,” stretching back all the way to Daenys Targaryen, whose visions allowed her family to escape the Doom. Was what he just had one of them?

“Aegon?” he heard Larra say from the other side of his door, along with a few knocks, “Caner wants you on deck. We’re approaching the shore of the island, but we’ve come across a fleet of wrecked ships.”

“Wait, a fleet?” he asked, standing up and putting his pants on, “What’s a fleet doing here?”

“I’m not sure, but Master Caner thinks they’re Westerosi; you were educated in the symbols of the various Westerosi Houses correct? Well, Master Caner wants you to look at their banners, see if you recognize the house sigils.”

“The Maester made sure I learned them all.” Aegon replied as he finished putting his shirt and shoes on, before reaching for his sword belt, “He was relentless that way.”

A minute later, he was following Larra up onto the deck; sure enough, there were dozens of shipwrecks; most of their sails were tattered beyond any sense of familiarity, but a few were mostly intact.

“Ah, good, good, excellent, you’re here.” Caner said as he looked at the ships with a spyglass while his canaries circled around him, “As our resident Westerosi expert, would you mind telling us where exactly these ships came from? They weren’t here the last time.”

“They’re not Ironborn.” Aegon said as he strained his eyes, “But they look very old; it’s amazing that any of them are still partially afloat. As for the where…”

Aegon froze as he saw one ship in particular, which was larger than the others, and decorated with wooden carvings; carvings of lions. He further recognized the symbol stitched into the ship’s sail; a golden lion on faded red.

“I don’t believe this.” he said, “But I think we’ve just found the treasure fleet of Tommen Lannister II, King of the Rock, who disappeared along with his whole fleet when he tried to claim the riches of Valyria after the Doom.”


	4. Chapter 4

One hour, a rowboat ride and several grappling hooks later, the party made it aboard what was assumed to be Tommen Lannister’s flagship.

“So, what should we expect aboard?” Tyrio asked as he helped Caner onto the deck, “I hear that Tywin Lannister shits gold; surely the same could be said of his ancestor.”

“There should be some gold.” Aegon explained as he helped Larra over the railing, “Lannisters never leave Casterly Rock without some. According to the chronicles, when Tommen stopped in Volantis, the Triarchs showered him with gifts, so there might be some of that aboard. However, this fleet was meant to bring back treasure from Valyria, so they’d probably want to make sure there was enough room for whatever dragon hoard they were hoping to find. How much treasure is aboard depends entirely on if they succeeded in finding anything of value.”

“So, at the very least there’ll be gold from Casterly Rock, and valuables from Volantis.” Xanda said as she tested her bowstring, “Good enough for me, even if there’s no dragon treasure aboard.”

“Ha!” Caner laughed as he fed a grub to his canary, “Mere gold is nothing compared to what could be onboard?”

“What do you mean Master?” Larra asked.

“Ask Young Master Aegon.” Caner replied, “He knows.”

The rest of the party turned to Aegon, expected looks in their eyes. Aegon sighed, but decided to get it over with.

“House Lannister had a Valyrian Steel sword named Brightroar, which they bought about a century before the Doom. It’s said that the amount of gold they paid for it would have been enough to raise an entire army. Tommen, when he left on his voyage to Valyria, took the sword with him, and it was lost along with him. If this is his flagship, then there’s a good chance that Brightroar itself in on board.”

“A Valyrian Steel sword?” Tyrio asked, in awe, “That alone would make all of us wealthy for the rest of our lives!”

“It’s not just any Valyrian Steel though.” Aegon interjected, “It’s one with great importance to House Lannister. I’ve heard tales of how Lord Tywin has tried many times to buy a sword from a lesser house, only to be refused. If we find that sword and take it to Tywin, he’ll pay us far more than any other buyer we could think of. Provided that it’s still on board that is.”

“Alright then, what should we be looking out for?” Xanda asked eagerly, “I know Valyrian Steel is not like other blades…”

“It’s a greatsword, and the blade has a distinctive ripple shaped pattern, a result of the metal being folded many times.” Aegon explained, “As for the hilt, all the stories I’ve read described it being decorated with the head of a male lion, forged from gold.”

“Do be careful though, to not let greed get in the way of common sense.” Caner interrupted, “Or am I the only one who wonders what happened to all the people on board?”

All eyes were on the old man, who walked over to an old barrel, and took a seat on it.

“Tommen Lannister and all his men were never seen again; we’ve discovered their ships, but where are the remains of the people? Keep your wits about you as you go below; we now not what killed the King of the Rock, or if it left this ship. Take these;” he pulled several lanterns form his robes, “And do be careful; I’d hate for any of us to die before we even reach the Temple! I’ll remain here; I’m much too old to be tripping on rotting steps.”

So, with lanterns lit, the party descended below deck. Much of the lower decks were in shambles, with the wood rotting from time and exposure to the sea.

“I don’t like the looks of this place.” Tyrio said as he held his lantern over rotted wood, “This ship looks as if it will crumble at any moment. We should not tarry here for long.”

“The Braavosi speaks true.” Xanda stated, “While I would love to find the Lion’s treasure, I would rather not join it at the bottom of the sea. Riches are no good to us if we’re dead.”

“Is this the king’s cabin?” Larra asked as she held her lantern next to a door decorated with the Lannister Lion, “I feel as if it is, but Westerosi enjoy painting their symbols on every available surface, so it could be storage for all I know.”

“No, it’s the king’s.” Aegon said as he pointed with his right finger, “See the crown beneath the lion? More than likely this is the King of the Rock’s cabin.”

“Then what are we waiting for?” Tyrio said as he opened the door, “Let’s see if you’re right.”

What they found was like something out of a story.

Gold, silver, gemstones, and other precious valuables filled the room, spilling out from chests and onto the floor, completely surrounding a magnificent throne in the middle of the room. The throne itself was lined with gold, with roaring lions carved into the armrests. Seated upon it was a long dead corpse, clad in golden armor with a red sash, and a gold crown inlaid with red rubies upon its brow.

“Tommen II.” Aegon whispered as he stepped forward, “King of the Rock, and last known wielder of Brightroar… speaking of which…”

While the rest of the party, as giddy as youths at a dance, moved to examine the riches before them, Aegon scanned his eyes over the long dead King. Sure enough, on his lap, was a greatsword, with its hilt decorated with a lion.

“Is that it?” Larra asked him, “Is that Brightroar?”

“Let’s find out…” Aegon whispered as he reached out to grasp it with his outstretched hand… only to notice several gold coins on the treasure pile closest to him shift.

“What in the…” he began, turning his lantern on the gold, “It wasn’t the waves that moved it-”

That was all he got out when something beneath the treasure exploded into action, sending a hail of gold everywhere. Aegon could barely blink before he saw a flash of steel swing towards him, only to stop a hair’s breadth from his throat. He looked down at what it was, and his Dornish brown skin turned as pale as his hair when he saw it was a massive axe.

“You’re not dead.” he heard the axe’s owner say, with what he suspected was a hint of surprise, “In fact, you’re very much alive.”

Aegon looked up to see the axe’s wielder, and witnessed the most shocking thing he had ever seen in his whole life.

Standing taller than the average man was something that stood upright like a man, and spoke like a man, but whose shoulders were broader, arms as thick as tree trunks, had possessed the features of a dragon. It had scales the color of red brass, and its green eyes seemed to pierce Aegon’s soul.

“Who are you, and who sent you?” it asked, speaking in a deep, masculine voice, seemingly unconcerned that Xanda was aiming an arrow at his head, while Tyrio had drawn his sword, “Speak truthfully, or it will be the last lie you will ever speak.”

“My name is Aegon Sand.” Aegon said nervously, “We’re treasure hunters.”

“Treasure hunters? You must be bold or foolish to come looking for treasure here in Valyria.”

“And yet, we found it all the same.” Aegon replied, gesturing to the riches around them.

“Heh. So you did. Who sent you though? The Wrymspeakers? They’re the only ones who know this route.”

“Peace please noble dragonborn.” Larra shouted, “We are not your enemies!”

The creature looked at Larra, raising it’s scaley equivalent of an eyebrow at her.  
“Then prove it.”

In response, Larra held up her medallion, the one engraved with the symbol of Bahamut upon it. The creature’s eyes widened, and lowered the axe from Aegon’s throat.

“You serve the Platinum Dragon?” he asked, “This is no trick?”

In response, Larra said something in a language that was to Aegon, both familiar and unfamiliar at the same time. The creature then bowed to one knee before Larra, lowering his head in deference.

“My most humble apologies.” he said, “Few who travel through these parts have good intentions, and even fewer would willingly board these derelicts.”

“Could someone explain what the fuck is going on?” Tyrio asked, sword still up but confusion on his face, “What is this creature, and how is it, Larra, that you can speak with it?”

“How dare you softskin! I am not a mere creature!” the dragon thing said, nostrils flaring as it stood up, “I am Rivan, warrior of Clan Mystan! I was a warrior while you were busy suckling on teats!”

“That explains absolutely nothing.” Xanda said, lowering her bow, “What sort of being looks like a dragon but walks and talks like a man?”

“My people are called dragonborn.” Rivan stated, “And if anything, you hairless apes walk and talk like us.”

“As fascinating as that point of view is… Larra.” Aegon said incredulously as he turned to look at the Lyseni girl, “How in the Seven Hells do you know what he is, and how is it that you know the same language?”

“We both worship Bahamut.” she said, showing them all her holy symbol, “The language comes naturally to His Faithful.”

Aegon narrowed his eyes; clearly Larra knew more than she was letting on.

“Alright then; why did he attack us?” he asked, “Why wait under a pile of gold to try to kill me with an axe?”

“I thought you were the enemy.” Rivan explained, “They’ve been searching for this ship for this fleet for years, and this ship in particular. It was at the bottom of the sea for centuries, and only raised due to the enemy’s sorcery some days ago. We already knew of the fleet’s location long before they did, so I and several others hid aboard the ships most likely to house their prize, myself choosing this vessel, and laid in wait for the foe to come claim their treasure, so I could separate their miserable heads from their shoulders.”

“You expect us to believe that a magician raised a fleet of ships from the bottom of the ocean?” Tyrio asked, “What idiots do you take us for?”

“I could care less what a perfumed fool like you chooses to believe.” Rivan snapped, “You may not be my enemy, but I will not suffer anyone to call me a liar!”

“Peace friends, peace!” Larra shouted, raising her hands and stepping between the two, “Rivan, what could your enemies possibly want on this ship that they would raise it up from the depths?”

“That.” Rivan pointed at Tommen’s body, “The King’s great treasure.”

“Brightroar?” Aegon asked, “Valyrian Steel is beyond valuable, but-”

“Not the sword!” Rivan shook his head, “What what was hidden in his shash! What I now carry on my person!”

Rivan reached into a pack on his belt and produced a strange white mask, which evoked a dragon in appearance.

“This is a dragon mask, a sacred artifact of great importance; I cannot allow the enemy to have it.” Rivan explained.

“But what’s so important about it that you’re willing to kill to keep your enemies from claiming it? Who are your enemies?”

It was then that they all heard a fell roar coming from outside; something unnatural, malicious, and unholy.

“You’ll find out for yourself.” Rivan stated, putting the mask back in his pack, and gripped his axe and then started making his way out of the room, “They are already here.”

The party followed him, but not before Aegon grabbed Brightroar from Tommen’s lap.

“Very sorry Your Grace.” he whispered to the dead king, bowing his head, “But I have a feeling I’ll be needing this more than you will; I swear I’ll return it to Casterly Rock though.”

Aegon then made his way to the deck, where he saw his companions, Caner, and Rivan staring up into the sky. Aegon followed his gaze, and to his shock, saw a dragon and rider.

The dragon however, was a sickly pale green, and it’s flesh was rotten and emaciated. Upon it’s back a rider, clad in black armor decorated with skulls, and from behind his visor, Aegon could see two glowing blue eyes. The dragon than landed on the bow of the ship, snarling while there was pus dripping from its mouth.

“Well, well, well…” it said in a chilling voice that echoed across the ship, glaring at Rivan, “A slave out of its pen? The Taskmaster should keep a better watch on the thralls.”

“A Death Knight.” Rivan said with hate, clenching his axe, “They send the most foul of their minions to claim the mask.”

“Watch your tone slave!” the Death Knight shouted, “Your kind are good only for labor, and entertainment! You have no right to speak to me in such a manner! As for the rest of you… five weak humans. Here I was, leaving the Citadel thinking I would not get to kill anything today… thank you for providing me with sport.”

He raised his hand, and a blue flame erupted from it, as well as on the deck of the ship. From the flames emerged a dozen skeletons clad in rusted armor, and welding rusted weapons.

“Slay them all! But don't make it quick!"

The party prepared for a fight as the skeletons advanced; Aegon unsheathed Brightroar, Tyrio readied his blade, and Xanda aimed her bow. Larra, however, ran in front of them all, charging at the approaching skeletons.

“What the hells are you doing?” Aegon shouted, get back here you don’t have a weapon-”

“Turn Undead!” Larra shouted as she held up her symbol of Bahamut. Instantly, light erupted from it, searing several of the skeletons with it’s radiance, and knocking them back.

"Ah good girl Larra!" Caner shouted, "Hit em with a bit of the divine! He wasn't expecting that, that's for sure! Now then, as for the rest of you..."

Caner raised his staff and pointed it at the skeletons.

"Protect her! Destroy the skeletons, but avoid the Death Knight! He is beyond any of you!"

Aegon, Tyrio, and Rivan charged past Larra, engaging the skeletons in melee, Xanda fired arrows from a distance, while Caner started chanting to himself, gripping his staff with both hands. All the while the Death Knight watched these new developments with interest.

“A worshiper of the Platinum fool?” the Death Knight asked, “Well now, this is a surprise. Kill them all save her! We’ll take her back to the Citadel to be sacrificed for the Dark Queen!”


End file.
